


Trapped Under the Mistletoe

by methademic



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Mistletoe, Wayne Chirstmas, demonfire, implied Jaytim (you really have to look for it)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 04:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15744201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methademic/pseuds/methademic
Summary: While attending yet another presumably failing Wayne family Christmas, Mar'i and Damian find themselves getting tangled up in an unspoken competition.





	Trapped Under the Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like writing something Christmassy (in March), so this is what my brain blurted out. I know the acceptable time for anything Christmas has either passed or is way too many months in advance but bear with me. 
> 
> This was inspired by KevlarMasquerade's 'Mistletoe' one shot, which is amazing.

“I don’t see the point in all this,” The irritable twenty-three-year-old grumbled, swatting a stray string of tinsel out of his way. “It’s utterly stupid.” 

 

Tim faintly smiled and pulled a pine needle out of Damian’s hood, holding it up for him to see before letting it drop to the ground. “You mean Christmas?” He asked with a snigger. Damian nodded and made a face at the decorations that littered the halls of the Manor. “Just the ornamental aspect of it is ridiculous. Add in the played out folklore of a chubby man in red and it’s practically comical.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust and hunched his shoulders. 

 

“Chin up, kid.” Tim laughed, ruffling his hair. “Back off, Drake. Unless you want me to add to that so-called collection of scars of yours.” He threatened, batting away his hand. “Stop being so grumpy. Mar’i put a lot of work into the decorations. Don’t piss her off. The last thing you want is an angry Tamaranean-Warrior-Princess after you.” 

 

Damian rolled his eyes. “Sure, I’ll be nice.” He mockingly complied, walking into the living room and plonking himself down on the couch. “It’s not like I _enjoy_ making her furious.” He said, the mischievous glint in his eye hinting that he loved to do just that. “Why are you so insistent on making everyone’s life oh-so miserable?” Tim questioned, sitting next to him. 

 

“Because I’m a _deeply_ sadistic person who relishes at both the thought and act of causing pain or misery to others.” He dryly replied, fighting the ever-insistent urge to roll his eyes. Apparently, it was ‘disrespectful’ or something to that effect, not that he really cared.

 

“Aren’t you the little terror.” Jason appeared in the doorway with a wide grin, which earned him a glare from Damian. “Don’t patronise me, Todd.” He hissed. 

 

“Me? Never.” Jason stepped forwards and ruffled his hair. The other members of the family often did this, knowing just how much the younger man hated it. 

 

He swatted his bothersome older brother’s hand away. “Okay, fine. I’m done.” He got up and stormed to the doorway, walking straight into Mar’i, whom he hadn’t seen due to the somewhat drastic height difference. It wasn’t that Mar’i was particularly short, but he had shot up over the summer in tenth grade and she had never quite caught up.

 

“Ah--” Mar’i squeaked, her voice muffled by Damian’s chest. “Sorry.” He mumbled, going to move past her when he heard a sharp whistle and Jason’s voice call, “Hold up there, speedy.” 

 

“What now?” Damian looked back to a very amused Tim and Jason, who were knowingly grinning at each other. “Look up,” Tim said, pointing to the doorframe above them, where a few leaves of mistletoe hung by a bright red ribbon, the shiny red berries stark against the green leaves. 

 

“Mistletoe?” Damian skeptically scoffed, raising an eyebrow at the two. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He turned to go to his room when Jason lured him back with a taunting, “Scared?” Which just earned him another irritated scoff. “Then kiss her.” Tim challenged. 

 

“Hey, no one ever asked me if I was okay with this.” Mar’i said, crossing her arms and leaning back against the doorframe. Because of Bruce’s tense relationship with both Dick and Kory, Mar’i wasn’t around at the Manor too much, but everyone absolutely adored the bubbly girl, even Damian, despite avidly denying it.

 

“Sorry, Mare. Are you good with this?” Jason queried. 

 

She amusedly looked up at Damian, smirking at just how uncomfortable he seemed to be. “Yeah, okay.” She agreed, nodding. 

 

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Damian asked, but they all just shook their heads with sly smiles. If he hadn't known these people for as long as he had, he would have left before he could be _terrorised_ into this position. 

 

“Nope,” Tim said. “I mean, you could leave if you wanted to, but at the expense of what? Your pride? Your dignity? Your masculinity?” He lowered his voice. “Your sexuality.”

 

“I’m perfectly secure in all of that.” Damian grumbled, copying Mar’i’s stance by crossing his arms and leaning back against the other side of the wide doorframe. “Okay, leave then.” Jason uninterestedly shrugged. They all knew how to perfectly manipulate Damian to do their bidding, which, as wicked as it sounded, was all part of the fun. He always found a way to exact his revenge though. A merry war, you could say.

 

“What? No.” Damian shook his head. “Not after all your bullshit.” He squared his jaw and looked at Mar’i, who raised an eyebrow. “So you’re just going to give in to this absurd holiday tradition? I thought you were totally against that sort of thing?” She asked with complete sincerity, which made him all the more flustered. “Well I- but- um- I--” He snapped his mouth shut and glared at her, refusing to say anything else.

 

“Just kiss her. Get it over and done with.” Jason insisted, wickedly grinning at him. “But giving up everything you stand for, Damian? Is that really how you want this to go?” Tim countered, which made him growl in frustration. “You sadistic fucks. Are you getting off on this or something? What’s your problem?” He exclaimed, glowering. 

 

“Jeez, Damian. We’re just trying to help you with what you’ve turned into a dilemma. No need to be so testy.” Jason smirked, stepping past them with Tim following shortly behind him. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

 

***

 

They sat on opposite sides of the doorway, tossing a golf ball that Alfred the cat had undoubtedly knocked into a corner, back and forth. 

 

“Did you know mistletoe is a parasitic plant,” Damian said, throwing the ball back. “It buries its roots into a host tree and sucks out all the nutrients so it can fuel itself.” 

 

“Wow…” Mar’i wearily said, not able to stop herself from rolling her eyes. They had been playing this relentless version of chicken for hours on end and it was getting tiring. 

 

“You know the tradition of kissing people under the mistletoe--”

“Something about some guy called Baldur being shot with a mistletoe arrow, I know. You’ve told me at least three times in the past five hours.” She sighed. “Oh.” Was his response. 

 

“You know humans are the only species on earth that kiss. No other animal on the planet--” He began, before being cut off yet again. 

 

“Can you please stop it with the Christmas Jeopardy, it’s getting old.” She requested with a sigh, peering past him into the dining room down the hall, where everyone except them was enjoying dinner. 

 

“Sorry.” He mumbled, leaning his head against the doorframe. 

 

“No, I’m sorry. I know I’m being…” She sighed instead of finishing the sentence, resting her hands on her knees. “Hmph.” He amusedly snorted in response, knowing where it was going. 

 

They sat in bored silence for a few more minutes before Mar’i looked up and said, “Did you know that in World War I during Christmas, there was a truce between Germany and the U.K. They exchanged gifts and decorated their shelters and everything.” 

 

He raised an eyebrow. “Wow…” He sarcastically mumbled, throwing the forgotten golf ball back to her. Instead of catching it, she swayed to the right and dodged it, letting it fly past her. 

 

“Hey, that was our only source of entertainment.” He whined, longingly reaching for it as if he could bring it back if he thought hard enough. 

 

“I can think of a _bunch_ of other ways to keep busy.” She mumbled while playing with the zipper on her knee-high leather boots. “Yeah? Like what?” Damian warily prompted. Mar’i could get frustrated, and while he had snorted at Drake’s warning about angering her, it was completely reasonable - if not smart - to be careful when she was in a mood. Being more in touch with emotions was a signature powerful trait, and sometimes Mar’i didn't have control over her starbolts when she got angry. Just like how her hair burst into flames when her emotions spiked.

 

“Oh, I don’t know. We _could_ watch TV. Oh wait, we can’t.” She hissed. He glared at her for a few moments before looking away. “Whatever.” He ran a hand through his hair to keep it in place. 

 

It was only a few minutes after that short exchange that Mar’i shook her head and sighed. “Okay, I’m done with this.” She decided, standing up and moving towards Damian. “What are you--” She cut him off with a quick kiss on the cheek and a friendly smile. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” She softly murmured. 

 

He rolled his eyes and stood up, turning his face away from hers to conceal the red tinge in his cheeks. “Shut it, Grayson.” He grumbled. She just shrugged it off with a cheery laugh and began to walk to the staircase - presumably so she could go to her room. 

 

He bit the inside of his cheek and extended his arm in a weak attempt to catch her. “Mar’i, wait,” He called, to which she turned around and quizzically raised an eyebrow, prompting a response. 

 

“Merry Christmas.” He smiled. “I, uh… I enjoy your presence.” He managed to say. While Mar’i had been taught to express herself or was at least directed to. Damian had not. The League had taught him in his most impressionable years that feelings were an exploitable weakness.

 

“You aren’t too bad either.” She grinned, decisively taking a step towards him and leaning up to press her lips to his. “Merry Christmas, Damian.”

 


End file.
